Phantom of the Fiendgod

"Come closer, you two. I feel dizzy too, and my limbs are a bit weak." "Damn it, Lion Valley has plenty going for it, but this poisonous miasma is an absolute nuisance." Leng Hua pulled a small bottle from his robes, shook out a black pill, and swallowed it. As they spoke, Lin Zheyu seized the opportunity. With a light tap of his toes, he darted into the valley. Along the way, he ran into several more lookouts. Using the same trick every time, he slipped smoothly into the heart of the valley. The valley was vast and lush, thick with towering trees that reached toward the sky. No sooner had he entered than he heard heavy thuds echoing through the woods—the sound of axes biting into timber. Following the noise, Lin Zheyu spotted a crowd of men working together to chop down trees. They were gaunt and dark-skinned; evidently, they were displaced refugees. Lin Zheyu quietly tailed the men until he reached an area where wooden cabins were being constructed. He roamed around the vicinity and discovered even more refugees. *So many refugees... there must be four or five thousand of them!* Lin Zheyu was quietly astonished. The gathering of displaced folk here was enormous. Supporting so many refugees—just their daily food, clothing, and basic needs alone—represented no small expense. "Put down your work, everyone! Gather at the square! The priest is about to give a sermon. Anyone who attends gets a bowl of meat broth!" a burly man strode over and shouted to the working refugees. Organized by the bandits, the refugees had clearly assigned roles: some built cabins, some foraged for wild fruits or cultivated crops, and some hunted game, while the bandits themselves went out to raid and pillage. *A priest?* *The Nine Nether Cult?* Lin Zheyu's curiosity was piqued. From the refugees' idle conversations, he had gathered quite a bit of information. As for the Nine Nether Cult, he retained a hazy impression of it from his memories. During his previous self's schooling, he had read passing mentions of the cult in unofficial histories. The Nine Nether Cult possessed over a millennium of history and worshipped the Nine Nether Fiendgod, a being purported to have existed before heaven and earth were cleft apart. Before the founding of Great Wei, diverse sects and cults had dotted this land, and the Nine Nether Cult was one of the three most powerful among them. However, upon founding Great Wei, the imperial court reorganized religious life, purging rival sects and promoting a pantheon headed by the Sovereign Supreme Lord of Myriad Daos Golden Gate Supreme Great Emperor of the Yellow Sky. From then on, the other sects gradually vanished. Some went underground, some took refuge in the deep mountains, and others were ground into dust by the long river of history. *Waging war, gathering refugees, welcoming believers, spreading incense and faith... Could the supernatural path in this world be ascension to godhood through faith?* Lin Zheyu muttered under his breath. Based on what he currently knew, he suspected that a system of faith-based deification might have defeated the cultivation path of immortality, leading to the latter's suppression and ban. Cultivating immortality had been branded a forbidden art. Of course, this was pure speculation without solid proof. With a shift of his body, Lin Zheyu stealthily followed along. The square was situated in a cleared forest within Lion Valley, where the trees had all been felled to create an expansive open area. In the center of the square stood an elevated wooden platform. A man in black-and-red robes stood atop it, flanked on either side by eight men in identical attire. Behind them loomed a wooden statue over four meters tall, carved with three heads and eight arms in the likeness of a fiendgod. The priest stood beneath the fiendgod statue with outstretched arms, his face the picture of devout reverence. In gentle tones, he slowly expounded upon the doctrines of the Nine Nether Cult. His voice was resonant and powerful, carrying to every corner of the square. To one side, more than a dozen burly men tended to gigantic iron cauldrons. The savory aroma of stewing meat drifted through the air. People poured in from every direction, adopting postures of devotion as they listened quietly below. The refugees listened with rapt attention. Having endured so much hardship, their faith in Great Wei and its patron deity, the Yellow Heaven Great Emperor, had long since shattered. Now, it was the Nine Nether Cult that offered them hope of survival. They had discarded their past beliefs and turned to worshipping the Nine Nether Fiendgod. Lin Zheyu edged closer. Circulating the Turtle Breathing Art to its limit, he concealed his presence and hid in the nearby woods. With brawny men patrolling all around, he could not get too close, but it was close enough for him to gauge the strength of the seventeen men on the platform. Every single one of them was an expert of the Qi and Blood Realm! The priest at their head possessed qi and blood several times thicker and more vigorous than his own—likely an expert of the Third Blood Transformation. One at the Third Blood Transformation, two at the Second Blood Transformation, two at the First Blood Transformation, while the remaining twelve had yet to reach the Qi and Blood Gossamer level. *Formidable!* Lin Zheyu was taken aback. Having this many Qi and Blood Realm experts easily outmatched the overt strength of Songyi City's three great clans. No wonder they could bring all the bandits in Lion Valley to heel. As the priest preached, the refugees began to kowtow and pray devoutly toward the fiendgod statue. Lin Zheyu gazed at the wooden carving. After staring at it for a while, the statue seemed to come alive before his eyes, and a colossal phantom of a mighty fiendgod standing between heaven and earth manifested in his vision. *Hiss—* Relying on sheer willpower, Lin Zheyu tore his gaze away. He panted heavily, soaked in cold sweat. *Terrifying... Could this fiendgod actually exist?* Lin Zheyu's eyes were filled with dread. With that single glance, an immense, ancient momentum had borne down upon him like an avalanche. The pressure had nearly suffocated him, tempting him to drop to his knees and kowtow alongside the refugees before the statue. *There's something wicked about this statue. It's beyond my current level to touch.* Lin Zheyu suppressed his lingering panic, not daring to look directly at the fiendgod statue again. He covered his ears with both hands, refusing to listen any further to the priest's sermon. Standing beneath the statue, the priest spoke with a voice that seemed laced with an uncanny enchantment, creating an overwhelming impression that whatever he said was absolute truth. Listening too long would inevitably breed an instinctive reverence for the Nine Nether Fiendgod, stirring an urge to bow in worship. Lin Zheyu pushed off with his toes and retreated swiftly, falling back more than a hundred meters before stopping to watch from a safe distance. The Nine Nether Cult reeked of mystery at every turn, making him contemplate a retreat. *Should I just leave?* Lin Zheyu thought. He pondered for a moment. Weighing the risks and rewards, he decided to watch a little longer. The priest was only at the level of the Third Blood Transformation. Unless the man specialized in movement arts, Lin Zheyu's transcendent mastery of the Golden Goose Skill, combined with his own First Blood Transformation cultivation, would make escaping relatively easy. It was just that the Nine Nether Cult was far too mysterious; their unknown capabilities made him cautious. Lin Zheyu backed up another two hundred meters, observing from afar. After about an hour, the priest concluded his address. Under the direction of cult personnel, the believers lined up in orderly queues to receive their hot, savory broth. Having finished the sermon, the men in black-and-red robes walked into a shrine beside the square. The shrine was tall and imposing, housing another fiendgod statue within. Watching them enter, Lin Zheyu breathed an inward sigh of relief. He had not been discovered. *With so many refugees, there's no way everyone knows each other. If I disguise myself as one of them and blend in, maybe I can dig up some useful information,* Lin Zheyu thought to himself. He found an unoccupied wooden cabin, located some clothes that fit him, and changed into them. Then he grabbed a handful of dirt and smeared it over himself, covering his fair skin in grime to look more like a refugee. Lin Zheyu inspected himself. It wasn't a perfect disguise, but without a close look, no one would be able to tell. He found a concealed spot to stash his saber and waist pouch, then slipped into the crowd of refugees. The crowd on the square had not yet dispersed; everyone was cradling a bowl, merrily sipping the broth. Lin Zheyu went over, received a bowl as well, and mingled among them with bowl in hand. Standing on the square, he looked at the fiendgod statue from up close. Lin Zheyu braced himself mentally, prepared to look away the instant any illusion of the fiendgod phantom reappeared. Yet, after staring at it for a full two or three minutes, no phantom materialized. The wooden statue looked utterly ordinary, unlike before when it seemed on the verge of coming alive. *Does the supernatural phenomenon only occur during prayer and worship?* Lin Zheyu guessed. He mingled among the refugees, eavesdropping on their conversations. They knew very little about the Nine Nether Cult beyond one simple fact: joining the cult and worshipping the Nine Nether Fiendgod meant they could eat their fill and live good lives. *How am I supposed to get my hands on a Blood Pill?* Lin Zheyu looked toward the shrine, pondering. Those seventeen men in black-and-red robes had not emerged since entering the shrine, and there was no telling what they were doing inside. Barging in directly was out of the question; Lin Zheyu didn't even dare get too close. Facing an expert of the Third Blood Transformation who might possess mysterious techniques forced him to tread with utmost caution. Lin Zheyu didn't drink the broth, instead giving it to an emaciated, skin-and-bones child. Over an hour passed, and the refugees gradually dispersed to return to work. Only a few lingered on the square, some kneeling once more to resume their prayers before the fiendgod statue. Lin Zheyu sat nearby pretending to rest, while patrolling bandits occasionally walked past. Right then, a group of burly men emerged from the mountain forest. The man in the lead had a booming voice, his hearty laughter preceding his arrival. "Haha! A bumper harvest this trip—we ran into a fat sheep! Lads, carry the goods into the shrine!" the hulking man bellowed with laughter. With a wave of his hand, his underlings carried several heavy chests into the shrine. Ever since joining the Nine Nether Cult, everything they plundered, hunted, or gathered—even refugees brought in—could be converted into contribution points. As long as one had enough contribution points, all manner of pills, treasures, and cultivation methods were up for exchange. "Cao Wang, how many contribution points do you have now?" someone came over and asked. "Counting what we brought in this trip, probably around seventy or eighty," Cao Wang chuckled. What he wanted most right now was to hit a hundred contribution points, exchange them for a Blood Pill, and push his strength into the Qi and Blood Realm. These bandits possessed limited aptitude; under normal circumstances, they would never have had any hope of advancing to the Qi and Blood Realm in their lifetimes. Who would have thought that after their city fell and they were forced into banditry, they would encounter such a miraculous opportunity? "What about you? How many do you have?" Cao Wang asked with a grin. "Only forty-three." "You lot took all the refugees. On top of that, the City Guard is cracking down hard right now, and those merchant caravans are tough nuts to crack—not easy pickings," the man sighed. "How about lending me your points for now? Let me redeem a Blood Pill and boost my strength first." "Once I'm stronger, earning points will be a breeze. Then I'll lend them back to you and help you get a Blood Pill too. What do you say?" Cao Wang suggested. "Fine by me, but you have to write an IOU in front of the priest, or I won't trust you," the man replied with a smirk. "Damn it, you don't trust my word?" Cao Wang glared. "Heh, we're all cutthroats here. Who are you kidding?" the man scoffed. "Heheh, don't worry, Cao Wang is a man of his word." "If you don't trust me, we'll write it out right in front of the priest," Cao Wang laughed, eagerly hurrying toward the shrine. The Qi and Blood Realm! In the city he hailed from, anyone in the Qi and Blood Realm was considered a top expert. He had never imagined that one day he could become such a powerhouse himself. ... Lin Zheyu watched the burly men haul their loot into the shrine and couldn't help letting out a quiet sigh. The idea that had just crossed his mind was dashed. He had figured that since this was the bandits' stronghold, their plundered goods would be stored somewhere in the camp. If he snooped around in secret, found their treasury, and made off with a haul, it would sustain him for quite a while. He hadn't anticipated that their storehouse would be inside the shrine itself. Inside were seventeen Qi and Blood Realm martial artists, including an expert of the Third Blood Transformation. Charging in there would be no different from seeking death. *That big fellow just went into the shrine to exchange for a Blood Pill? Let's hope he doesn't swallow it right there inside,* Lin Zheyu thought. He kept his gaze fixed quietly on the shrine.